A fun weekend…until….

 

Apparently a homeless “crazy guy” broke into my parent’s church and my dad went to “handle the situation” and by handle the situation, I mean he went to talk to the guy without a plan, no concern for who this guy might be, or even a single though that maybe he should call the cops first (but I didn't know that going in).

 

My mother asked me to go and rescue my father because she was worried about him.   So, I left on the rescue mission under the influence that the police had already been contacted…..I was wrong, I walked in to see my dad having coffee with one of the creepiest hippies I’ve ever seen. White bandana, Santa Clause hat, a long gray beard and smelled of pot and several chemicals I couldn’t identify (which I later learned, based on the description, was crack). I pulled my dad aside and told him we were leaving and calling the police to handle it.   in normal fashion for suggestion coming from me, he refused saying the guy was harmless. Yeah, the harmless guy who was obviously the pillar of sanity smelling like he was smoking a joint while he took a bath in ammonia, bad honey (or cheap mead), floor polish, and turpentine and spent an hour ranting about the upcoming war with those of the “unfaith”. So, my dad offers to give him a ride to the gas stations off the interstate because the crazy guy said that was where he wanted to go.

 

So, I have to insist that I will sit in the back and my dad and “Crazy Mc Chemical Huffer” sit in the front.  I was just waiting for this guy to declare some religious need and try to cut my father’s throat and wear his face as a mask, but he just kept spouting religous rants and looking back at me like he didn’t trust me (for good reason). At this time my hand was starting to cramp from keeping my thumb over the hammer of my sidearm, and I was just hoping that this would all be over once we dropped him off. 

 

The trip was uneventful, aside from the fear that I would get a contact high or some strange disease just from being around this guy in a closed in space. We dropped him off outside of a trucker’s mobile chapel, and my dad gave him all the cash he had on him ($12) and we were off. 

 

After much convincing, my dad called the county dispatcher and told them what happened, she had some choice words for my father while they were checking the guy out, including threats of aiding a fugitive, risks associated with what he just did, and stories about the number of people killed by hitchhikers (I think those numbers were exaggerated, but it got the point across). Turns out the guy is known in the area but has never been charged with any crimes, and he had actually been checked out by local police 3 times earlier that day.

 

 Then the yelling started.

 

My mom was pissed that my dad would put himself in that situation, my wife is pissed that my dad would put me in that situation and mad at me because I let him, I was just generally pissed that I had to deal with hobo smell for an hour and had to go clean sweaty hand prints off my Snake Slayer.   My dad’s defense…..it would have looked bad if the church would have turned away someone who was in need.   Ok dad, he was in need, and since you gave him money I’m sure he will be able to find that quick fix he needs, and the church was able to save face…..but how would it have looked if the church had to deal with the headlines in the paper that one of their Elders (my father) was slaughtered, cooked and eaten in the church’s kitchen by a hobo who massacred his entire family the week before?   

Quote my dad: “but that’s not how it happened”

Me; “but what if it had?”

Dad; “I had the entire situation under control, it couldn’t have happened”

Me; “what if he pulled a knife or a gun?”

Dad; “he wouldn’t have done that”

Me; “ah, so now you are willing to be character whiteness for people you knew for less than an hour?”

Dad (trying to assign blame to me): “well you seemed pretty calm if that really was the situation”

Me; “I was pretty calm, but I would have to be since I had 730 grains (1.6 oz) of steel shot aimed at his belly the entire time. Twitchy and armed is a bad combination, that’s why I was calm.”

Dad; “oh, um….I guess you handled the situation better than I did”

Me “no, I handled it just as bad because I didn’t call the police the second mom called me and told me to arm up and come and rescue you”

Dad: “oh…..”

 

 

Other than that, it was a fun, relaxing, long weekend. 

 

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